I find myself at the bottom of my pit again; dirt beneath my fingernails.
I rip at the ground, frantically looking for my way out, ignoring the rope above my head.

I scrape and claw at the earth.
My eyes are fixed on the ground, even as a hand extends itself to pull me out.
Ignoring its offer to help, I keep digging.

I don't know what I'm looking for, but I know what it feels like.
I've known it before.
I know it now.
It's standing on the edge if my pit, reaching down to pull me out.

I'm covered in the stain of of overturned earth.
My arms are heavy with exhaustion.
My mind is clear of the fog that had consumed it.

I can turn away from the depths I have clawed my way towards.
I look up to the pure rays of the sun, bathing my stained body in clean light.

He is standing there, but his hand is withdrawn.
He steps back from the edge and I strain to see him.
I am overcome with a desperate need to hear his voice.

"How did I get here?", I ask with anguish in my voice.

"You dug it yourself. Now get yourself out."

Once more, my body awakens
for a new journey

My mind stirs and vibrates
in anticipation

My muscles ache with the
thought of this new trial

I've taken my first steps
towards a goal I haven't set yet

The fear of the unknown
drives me forward.

My head is the rabbit hole and I follow my white rabbit down and down and down unil the path we've dug is so twisted that I can hardly remember how I got there in the first place.
Sometimes I feel like the twisted version of myself at the bottom of my rabbit hole is the real me that I am desperately trying to bury.
Then other times I worry that there is no real me at the bottom.
My struggle to move the earth around me is a pathetic attempt to hide forever.
My search is in vain.
There is nothing to become.
I already AM.

I hope this cloud of dust is thick enough.

It doesn't matter if I am down at the bottom of the pit or if I am the one digging my own grave.
I cannot spend my entire life following that rabbit down a hole.